


so i'll get used to living with my feet off the ground

by brahe



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: !!!!!, Ahsoka Tano Didn't Leave the Jedi Order, Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano Friendship, Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Anakin's Backstory(tm), Bonding, Cuddling and Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Feels, Flowers, Fluff, Flying, Force-Sensitive Plants, Hair Brushing, M/M, Nostalgia, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano Friendship, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker are Ahsoka Tano's Parents, Obi-Wan's Pet Name Culture, Plants, Platonic Cuddling, Room of a Thousand Fountains (Star Wars), The Living Force, Vague Sadness, ahsoka's two kyber crystals, bonding moments with the dad figures in your life, everyone gets hugs all over this fic, guess what!!! it's more, jar'kai, love and support only in this house, pilot anakin skywalker, piloting, sun metaphors, vague allusions to tatooine and slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:40:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28209978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brahe/pseuds/brahe
Summary: Ahsoka thinks about letting him down, and curls tighter into herself. "But what if I'm not good enough?"Obi-Wan's arm settles across her shoulders, keeping her tucked to his side, and he rubs gently at her arm."Oh, little one," he sighs, something both affectionate and sad in his tone. "You will be good enough. You are good enough. Do not ever doubt your abilities, my padawan," he tells her, his voice soft but emphatic. "I never have."Or,Five things Ahsoka learned from Anakin and Obi-Wan, and one thing they learned from her.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 19
Kudos: 175
Collections: Obikin Secret Santa 2020





	1. flying

**Author's Note:**

  * For [obikinn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obikinn/gifts).



> updated title from alive by needtobreathe
> 
> previously _start your life in the middle of the jungle_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh poke i hope you enjoy!!!! i loved loved loved writing for your prompt "anakin and obi wan being dads to ahsoka" i adore writing all these intertwined relationships!  
> this timeline is all over the place, with some from early in ahsoka's training, and some much later.  
> there will be six chapters, each coming soon!
> 
> betaed only by me, i try my best
> 
> title from young blood by noah kahan

"Okay, Snips," Anakin says when she meets him at the base of a ship she recognizes as one of their smaller transport ships. He's got the determined edge to his voice, and she eyes him warily. "Ready for some lessons?" 

"Lessons?" Ahsoka repeats, looking between Anakin and the ship. 

"Lessons," he confirms. The bay door is on the ground, and she has to follow him into the ship as he continues talking. "It's time we got you up in the air for some practice." 

The ship is small, one she's flown a few times before. Anakin drops into the co-pilot seat and looks expectantly at her. 

"But master," Ahsoka says, looking from the controls to him, "I already know how to fly." 

"Oh, Snips," Anakin says, drawing it out as he leans back in the co-pilot seat. He makes a _tsk_ sound when he looks at her. "You might know how to get a ship in and out of atmo and run the hyperspace calculations," he says, "but you don't know how to _fly_." 

He settles into his chair on the last word, face soft as he looks out the viewport. The Force around them shifts, turning light and nostalgic as Anakin loses himself in his memories. There's something in his face, something in his signature, that feels like big, open skies, like wind against her face, like—freedom, and she wants to know what that really feels like, what that really _means_. 

"Okay," she agrees, exhaling and settling into the pilot seat. She feels small, a little, sitting a seat clearly designed for a body larger than hers, but she sets her shoulders, thinks about the feeling that's still lingering in the Force here. 

The controls are well-worn, some of the buttons scrubbed away with use, the edges of the paint faintly rough under her fingertips. Everything is worn, but solid in a way only a machine under Anakin's care can be, so frequently used and well loved and cared for. 

Sitting in the seat he usually fills, her hands on controls so obviously worn by his hands, surrounded by the feelings of his memories in the Force, she's reminded how effusive her master truly is. There is nothing he touches where his fingerprints don't linger. 

"Okay," she repeats, and Anakin's watching her when she looks over. "Show me." 

Anakin's already smiling at her, his enthusiasm contagious as always. 

"I want to know what you mean." 

"That's my girl," he says, grin so wide it squints his eyes. He shifts in his seat, sitting up properly. "No padawan of mine is gonna go through life without knowing how to _really_ fly." 

Ahsoka laughs, more of a release of the happiness her body can't hold than anything else, and she warms from the inside at Anakin's words, and the _excitement-pride_ that's echoing from his end of their bond. 

"Get it started and take us down into the atmosphere," he directs. "We'll start there." 

Ahsoka nods, already working on the start-up sequence. This, at least, is familiar, and she relies on the muscle memory to move her through the buttons and switches. 

The ship is a little shaky under her hands when they leave the hangar, but she smooths out in the short distance between the _Resolute_ and the moon they're orbiting, a forest moon with thin, towering rock spires and big, white clouds. 

She brings them into the atmosphere, careful to avoid the heat spike of entry, a trick she learned from Anakin. 

The landscape is as beautiful as it is dangerous, low-hanging clouds hiding the high peaks of the spire ranges, the rock grey and barren. Ahsoka keeps them high, well above the tips of the rocks. 

"Stop here," Anakin tells her, after a few moments of flying straight. "Just—let it hover for a minute." 

Ahsoka glances at him but does as he says, pulling the ship into a stop, letting the auto keep them in place in the sky. 

"Now," he instructs, "stretch your feelings out." He sits back in his seat, closing his eyes as he relaxes. Ahsoka lets her own close as she begins to reach her senses to the planet below them, following the trees down to the brush, down to the creatures roaming through the forests and up the mountains. "If you go far enough, you can feel the whole planet, the very existence of it breathing." 

And that's the thing, with being Anakin's padawan—he says things like that, he _feels_ things like that without having to even try, his connection to the Force so strong, so far beyond anything Ahsoka can begin to comprehend, and she's starting to lose track of the number of times he's said _wait, you can't sense that?_

But this time—this time, she exhales, and inhales, and she feels suddenly as if the planet is breathing along with her, slow, steady breaths all the way down to the bugs and the flowers. 

When Ahsoka opens her eyes again, she finds Anakin watching her, his small, fond smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. 

"Amazing, isn't it?" he asks, voice soft. Ahsoka nods, peering out the viewport as if seeing the landscape for the first time. It sort of is like that, really; she's never connected to anything like this before. 

"Yeah," she agrees. Even Anakin's signature is different to her now. He's always like a supernova, but now he's steadier, calmer. 

"This is how I won the podraces on Tatooine," he tells her, after a moment of quiet. Ahsoka turns to him, settling back in seat, immediately rapt attention. He hardly tells stories, like this. "Everything was always so loud. It was easy, almost, kind of like cheating when you can sense the track ahead and hear the thoughts of your competitors." He exhales, some distant relative of a laugh, maybe. "Obi-Wan taught me how to control it, though. Coming to Coruscant was a bit of an adjustment, to say the least." 

Ahsoka looks at him, follows the lines of his face with her gaze, his features so familiar to her she sometimes can't recall them in detail. 

"I never knew that," she tells him, matching his soft tone. 

Anakin sighs. "It's not something I talk about often," he says, though she doesn't know if he means Tatooine, or his abilities. "It's just—complicated." 

She's known that about him, at the least, since they met. The whole Temple knows Anakin Skywalker is _complicated_. 

Ahsoka looks at her hands, still wrapped around the controls, and thinks that there are many things far more complicated than being Anakin’s padawan.

“I don’t mind complicated,” she tells him, turning her attention to him in time to see soft, genuine smile bloom across his face.

He makes a sound, somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh. “Love you, too, Snips,” he says, and maybe it was supposed to be sarcastic, but his love is too real, too abundant for it to be anything other than sincere. 

(And later, after he’s guided her through this further stretching of her senses, after he’s sat beside her as she flew them, eyes closed, through towering spires and heavy clouds, after she bursts out the other side with so much enthusiasm, so much pride that she stands up with the strength of it, when she’s leveled the ship again, well above the rock spires and up in the thinner clouds, Anakin sits back in his chair, and tells her, 

"That's the difference, you know. Between flying and _flying_." He says it the second time softer, almost wistful, and that warm nostalgia feeling is back seeping into the Force. "It's focus, and control, and awareness of your surroundings, yeah," he continues, "but it's independence. It's freedom." 

Ahsoka looks from the stretch of blue sky ahead of them to Anakin, who's watching them pass through clouds with half attention, lost in memories again. His signature is much calmer than usual, if a little sad, and she wonders, not for the first time, about the things he's seen. She has only pieces of his life before her and before the Jedi, knows little more than what the rest of the Temple knows; but she gets moments like this one and the one before, catches little snippets of his feelings and his memories, that have started to create a blurry sort of picture. 

One day, she'll ask him about it, about everything he's seen and everything he's done—but not now. 

Now, she turns her attention back to the viewport, a mirror of Anakin's position. She breathes deeply, slowly, and lets herself take in the view before her, takes the moment to truly appreciate the size of the sky and everything it represents. 

For a moment, there's an itch under her skin pushing her forward and forward towards the endless horizon line, a rush of adrenaline with the thought that nothing holds her back. For a moment, she is boundless, limitless, _free_. 

"I feel it," she tells Anakin softly, afraid speaking too loud will break the moment, will shatter this feeling that seems so delicate. "I can feel it.")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anakin @ ahsoka: that's my girl!  
> me: anyway sobbing


	2. jar'kai

It's early in the day cycle; late enough that the sun has begun to creep over the horizon, but early enough that most of the Temple is still asleep. 

Anakin is, unusually, still mostly asleep, but Obi-Wan is awake, she can tell, his signature soft and quiet, peaceful with the slow rise of the light. The combination of the warm, early sunlight and Obi-Wan's gentle consciousness go far in easing the agitation that's kept her up most of the night, and she lets her eyes fall closed as she takes a deep, slow breath and lets it out slower.

She makes her way to the kitchen, in search of tea, or food, or both, going slowly and mostly in her head, and misses Obi-Wan's presence until she bumps into him. 

"Oh!" she says, surprise quiet in the morning stillness of the apartment. "Sorry Master, I didn't see you." 

Obi-Wan laughs softly. "It's quite alright, dear," he tells her, shifting the pot off the stove. "Tea?" he asks, though there's already two cups on the counter.

Ahsoka nods, wrapping her arms around herself. "Please." 

She watches him pour the water with smooth, steady hands, watches the steam curl up into the air out of the mouths of the mugs, and almost misses it when Obi-Wan speaks, his attention still, seemingly, on the tea. 

"What's wrong, my dear?" 

Ahsoka blinks at him, processing his question for longer than she should need to. She huffs a sigh, her shoulders drooping. 

"I don't know," she tells him, and takes the mug he holds out to her. "I think—I dunno. It's the crystal, I think. It's just…new." 

Obi-Wan hums thoughtfully, leaning back against the counter to look at Ahsoka as he blows once over his tea, and begins sipping at it. 

Ahsoka's is still far too hot to drink, and the Force around Obi-Wan shimmers faintly in the way it does just after use. She shakes her head, laughing to herself. 

"Having a second crystal is rare," Obi-Wan tells her, which she knows; she's heard that line nearly every day since she ended up with it. She's about to cut in when Obi-Wan continues, though. "It's a big responsibility," he says, eyeing Ahsoka, "but it's also a big change." 

Ahsoka deflates, Obi-Wan's understanding shining in his face, washing over her through their bond. "A big change I didn't exactly want," she admits, her gaze on the tea in her cup and her voice soft. "Jar'Kai isn't exactly the easiest form." 

Obi-Wan sets his mug down on the counter. "Is that what you're worried about?" he asks, incredulous, yet gentle. "My dear, you aren't expected to be an expert in Jar'Kai this very moment. It is now just something you must study and learn." He's looking at her with what she's come to recognize as fondness, in the way it crinkles the skin around his eyes, the way it curls a faint smile on his lips. 

Ahsoka thinks about letting him down, and curls tighter into herself. "But what if I'm not good enough?" 

Obi-Wan's hand on her shoulder startles her, and she moves jerkily as he pulls her into his side. His body is warm and solid against hers, and he smells like fresh linen and tea when she rests her head on the side of his chest. His arm settles across her shoulders, keeping her tucked to his side, and he rubs gently at her arm. 

"Oh, little one," he sighs, something both affectionate and sad in his tone. "You will be good enough. You _are_ good enough. I have no doubt that you could one day master Jar'Kai better than any Jedi before you." She feels his head shift, and he presses a light kiss to her forehead. "Do not ever doubt your abilities, my padawan," he tells her, his voice soft but emphatic. "I never have." 

There's a steady stream of fondness coming to her from his side of their bond, thick as it is light, her eyes closing briefly with the strength of it, and she feels like she cannot fail. 

"Thank you," she says, hardly more than a whisper, but Obi-Wan squeezes at her shoulders before his arm falls away, and she knows he heard.

(And, after they've finished their tea; after Obi-Wan says, "Show me the Jar'Kai katas," and Ahsoka moves through the forms with slowness but precision; after Obi-Wan tells her, "Your forms are impeccable, my dear," and comes to stand beside her and cycle through the movements with her—she realizes Anakin had awoken and settled himself on the sofa, at some point, to watch their practice, and when they drop, simultaneously, into the rest stance, she meets his gaze, finds him with a smile that matches the outpouring of affection in the Force. 

"You'll be better than me at Jar'Kai in no time, Snips," Anakin tells her. Ahsoka heart swells, and she can't help the glance at Obi-Wan, catches the sparkling in his eyes.

"Guess you better start practicing, too," she tells Anakin, enjoying the way he scoffs at her. She turns to Obi-Wan, bowing at him to end their informal session. "Thank you, Master," she says, quietly, and she knows he catches her full meaning when he smiles and clasps her shoulder on the way to settle in beside Anakin on the sofa.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway there can never enough obi-wan & ahsoka comfort in the world


	3. living force

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello im SOFT and i love TREES and FERNS and FLOWERS  
> i miss the way palm fronds sound when they shift in the wind and that nostalgia is Here and Alive in this 
> 
> me, back with more prose & metaphors abt the sun:

The peace she feels here in this room is unlike any she can find elsewhere. The moment she walks through the door, the moment she stands underneath ceilings soaring so high they disappear, hears trickling creeks and distant, rushing waterfalls, smells fresh flower blooms and healthy dirt and the sweetness of deep green leaves—it's grounding, settling, the Living Force a familiar friend, washing over her, taking her tension and her stress as it works from her head to her toes. 

It is today like it is every time, and she lingers just inside the doorway, letting her eyes close for a moment as she soaks it in. The light in here is bright today, and there's a breeze faintly rustling the leaves around her, picking up the edges of her loose robes. 

She picks a familiar path without any real conscious thought, her feet guiding her along well-worn stones settled into patches of bright pink moss. She trails her fingers along the plants on her left, just barely brushing the edges of the leaves and the flowers, watches as some of them curl inwards suddenly, as some reach out to press up to her fingertips, as some light up, faint in the sunshine. 

She stops at a small grassy patch just off the trail, picking her way carefully past the ever-growing bushes at the edges and leaving her shoes behind. She wiggles her toes in the grass, soft under her skin, and feels the softness of the dirt underneath give way under her heels. 

She's spent many hours here, sitting in the dappled, shifting shade of the towering trees overhead; most of them with her masters, who enjoy the calm of this room as much as she does. 

She folds herself onto the ground and lets her eyes close, her hands settling loosely over her knees, and she lets the sounds of the room fill her focus—slows her breath to match the gentle breeze, feels her body sway with the quiet rustling of the leaves above her. 

The Living Force comes easy to her, where it sits so close to the surface here in this sanctuary, and she pulls it to her, around her, until she feels it settle in her bones. 

A soft, familiar voice slides to her, then, suddenly, coming gently along the creaking of the trees and the high echoes of rushing water. 

"I thought I might find you here." 

Ahsoka opens her eyes in several quick blinks, peering up to find Obi-Wan standing at the edge of the grass patch she's come to think of as theirs. There's a gentle smile on his face, his eyes crinkled in a way she rarely sees, and through their bond she feels his easy, quiet happiness like the hint of a sun. 

She gives him a smile in return. "Hey, Master," she says, shifting out of her loose meditation, "did you need something?" 

"Oh, no," Obi-Wan tells her, shaking his head. "Do you mind if I join you?" 

She shuffles over from her spot, making room in the grass beside her and waving her hand in invitation. 

"Are you here for meditation practice?" 

Obi-Wan folds himself gracefully at her side, tucking his bare feet under his knees. Ahsoka feels the heat of his body faintly, where it radiates from him. He chuckles softly. "No, I'm not here for a lesson, my dear," he says. "Is there something troubling you?" 

Ahsoka shakes her head, looking up when the giant fronds above give a loud rustle. "No, no, I'm fine," she tells him, turning to him. "I just like sitting in here. I like the sounds of the leaves and the water." She shrugs, picking at the grass in front of her. "It's—peaceful." 

Obi-Wan nods, a wistful, fond smile on his face. "You come from a long line of Jedi put at peace by the sounds of trees and rivers," he tells her. "I took Anakin here in the first couple weeks after he arrived, and I've had a hard time getting him to leave, since." 

Ahsoka knows this already—Obi-Wan has mentioned a few times how Anakin's preference for the Room of a Thousand Fountains started many years ago—but she doesn't stop him, says nothing and instead watches Obi-Wan with fondness, and a quiet eagerness, hoping he'll tell her more stories like the ones he told her the last time they sat here like this. 

"That was the first time he had ever seen a tree," Obi-Wan says, voice soft, full of memory. "Or a waterfall. His awe and his joy at so much water was both endearing and–upsetting." 

Ahsoka tries to imagine that, to imagine life without ever seeing rivers and waterfalls and forests and flowers, and she feels a sudden, deeper gratitude for the room around her. 

"Getting him to leave, that first time, took quite an effort," Obi-Wan continues, and the sadness has left his voice, mostly, replaced by warm fondness Ahsoka knows well. "He laid down in the big field, over by the main falls, with his nose shoved right in the grass, and told me he was never, ever going to leave. 'The trees want me to stay,' he told me, muffled into the ground. 'They're singing to me.'" 

Obi-Wan looks up at the trees, then, watching their fronds swaying slightly. Ahsoka thinks about his quote, about the trees singing, and she remembers what Anakin taught her during that flying lesson, so long ago, now, about feeling the breaths of a planet. 

"He has always been something incredible," Obi-Wan says, so fondly and so softly Ahsoka wonders if he knows he said it aloud. 

"He told me, some time much later, that that was the first time he had truly felt the Living Force," Obi-Wan adds, louder, meeting Ahsoka's attentive gaze. "And, it was not far from this very spot where my master first showed me the Living Force." 

He says it just so, just a little sly, like he's got a story he knows Ahsoka's eager to hear, and she can't help the way she leans just a little towards him.

"Master Qui-Gon," she says, half recognition and half awe, thinking of the tales she's heard from other masters, passing lines and rumors and all sorts of things she's always wondered about. 

Obi-Wan offers her a quick smile, and continues. "He led me to a patch like this, tucked away in the bushes and trees, and he told me—'relax, Obi-Wan, you cannot feel the Force of a flower if you're as tense as a taut wire.'" 

Ahsoka laughs, and she catches the deep blue of Obi-Wan's eyes in slivers over his smile. 

"'Relax and open your mind,' he told me. And he held his hand out just like this, and—"

She watches Obi-Wan hold his hand out over the grass, palm down and fingers spread, and between one breath and the next, a new sprout is pushing itself through the dirt and the grass, growing until a bulb forms and unfurls in brilliant yellows and pinks, shimmering in the sunlight. 

Ahsoka gasps, looking from the flower to Obi-Wan and back again, shock no doubt plain on her face. She reaches hesitant fingertips to the flower's petals, touching them just barely enough to feel the velvety, fuzzy smoothness of a fresh bloom. The flower sings with a hint of Obi-Wan's Force signature, his familiar gentle warmth threaded thoroughly within the flower's Force presence.

"Wow," she murmurs, watching as the flower glitters in the shifting sunspots. "That was amazing." 

"The Living Force reminds us that even something so small as a flower is important," he says, soft and sounding far away, and when Ahsoka looks up at his face, there's something distant and sad in the wrinkles around his eyes, something heavier than nostalgia curling through his signature.

"It's easy to forget about the war, in here," he admits, and again Ahsoka feels like she's hearing something he didn't quite mean to say out loud. "To listen to the flowers and the creeks and think that I am back in a time many years ago." He pauses on a sigh, and runs his fingertips over the tips of the grass beside him. "But the Living Force reaches into every corner of the galaxy, and even the trees here know the weight of the battles we're fighting." 

Ahsoka thinks about the weight in Obi-Wan, now, the tinge in his signature she had once thought was just always a part of him, and thinks of the speckled sunlight of his happiness from so many moments ago, and she wants that sun back, wants to bask in the light and warmth of him, wants to rid him of the clouds that always seem to chase after him. 

"Teach me how to make the flower," she says, asks, and she's rewarded with the way Obi-Wan comes back into this moment, blinking at her as the heavy, cool fog in his signature lifts, bringing back the sunshine. 

"I—didn't _make_ the flower," he corrects her, shaking his head, though there's now the hint of a smile curling at the corners of his lips. "I simply…encouraged it to grow right here." 

Ahsoka huffs, mostly put-on, giving Obi-Wan a smile when he tugs lightly on their bond, sends deep affection to her, in a silent acknowledgement of her redirection. 

"Okay, okay, then show me how to grow one, too. Please?" 

"Yes, yes, I'll show you," he agrees with a soft laugh. "Pay attention, my dear." 

(Ahsoka grows her own flower, after a few tries, and it's a little smaller than Obi-Wan's, the pinks and yellows a little duller, but she feels her own signature singing faintly back at her when it opens into a bloom, and she grins, so full of a simple, bright delight she can barely contain it. 

"Anakin was just as excited as you are, my dear," Obi-Wan tells her, soft and fond. "He spent half an hour growing enough flowers to cover this entire spot in pink and yellow." 

Ahsoka imagines their little spot covered in these bright, shimmering flowers, how beautiful it must've looked. She grins at her flower, then at Obi-Wan. "Guess I've got some work to do.") 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> growing a flower with the force is something that can actually be so personal
> 
> anyway im emotional over these family traditions i just made up. didn't mean for it to get sad for sec obi wan just brings it out in me
> 
> (yeah i was thinking abt the tangled flower)


	4. hair brushing

They don't share quarters on the _Resolute_ , but Ahsoka often finds her way into Anakin's room, anyway, when the stillness and silence of her own room is too much, when the things she's seen keep her awake, when she misses being near to him. 

Or, like now, when her stress from this mission and her worry for Master Kenobi keep her restless. 

Anakin's in the 'fresher when she lets herself in. His boots are by the door, one of them lying where it fell sideways onto the floor, and his formal robes are in a heap by the bed. 

"Hey, Snips!" he calls from beyond the open doorway, voice raised above the sound of the sink. "I'll be there in a second!" 

Ahsoka hums, climbing onto Anakin's bed, rearranging the pillows against the wall and tucking herself into them. She pulls her sleeves past her hands, balling the fabric of Obi-Wan's stolen tunic under her fingers, and sighs, already eased by the sense of _Anakin_ that permeates the room, the smell of his soap that clings to the sheets. 

She doesn't realize she's almost nodded off until Anakin comes back into the room, standing just inside the doorway and squishing at his wet hair with a towel. 

"Hey, kiddo," he says, more concerned this time, voice soft. "You okay?" 

Ahsoka sighs as she shifts, extracting herself a bit from where she sank into the pillows. "Yeah," she shrugs. "Just—worried." 

Anakin makes a face at her, something between concern and sadness, she thinks, and she watches him come to the bed, settling on the edge of it, turned towards her. 

"Yeah," he agrees, and he sounds as off-center as Ahsoka feels. The fact that she can feel his aching through their bond speaks to the depth of the hurt, though she's sure her own echoes faintly back. 

She shifts forward closer to him, is still debating reaching out when he drops his towel on the floor, his hair hanging in damp, curly clumps around his face. He pulls a brush off the bed on his far side, and Ahsoka watches the movements of his hands, his mechno one a rare sight free of its glove. The bristles of his brush create uniform lines in his hair, tugging the strands straight until he reaches the end and they bounce back into familiar loops. 

"Can I brush you hair?" she asks, before she really realizes what she's saying, and Anakin looks at her, eyebrows raised. The brush stills with his hand. 

"Uh, yeah," he agrees, "yeah, sure." He hands her the brush, then looks at her, as if just realizing something. "Have you ever done this before?" 

Ahsoka looks up from where she's been inspecting the brush. "Um—no," she tells him. "Is that…bad?"

"No! No, it's not bad." He moves so his back is to her, her knees brushing against his sleep shirt. "I'll teach you how." 

Ahsoka looks up at the back of Anakin's head, then the brush in her hand. "Do I just—start?" 

"Oh, right," Anakin says, resettling a little. "You start at the top and go down," he explains, moving his fingers through his hair in the pattern. "Pull the brush all the way through, until there's no more hair, and then move over to the side a bit and do it again." 

"Okay," Ahsoka murmurs, pushing herself up onto her knees, the mattress denting under her weight. She raises the brush to the top of Anakin's head, but stops hovering over his scalp, eyes widening. 

"Wait, I'm not gonna hurt you, am I?" 

Anakin chuckles softly. "No," he says, fond. "Just watch out for knots." 

Ahsoka frowns. "Knots? Your hair has knots?" 

"Not like that," Anakin tells her with a gentle laugh. "Sometimes the strands get tangled with each other, like if it's windy, or I move around a lot. It can hurt if you tug them too hard with the brush." 

"Hm," Ahsoka hums. It seems a bit silly to her, that hair could get tangled and hurt if it's pulled, but humans have always seemed a bit silly to her, anyway. 

She lowers the brush until the bristles rest against Anakin's head, and then slowly, gently pulls it back towards her, watching the strands of hair that move through it, keeping careful attention for any snags. 

It's easier, to focus on this simple, repetitive motion, easier to forget the wrongess of Master Kenobi pale and unconscious in the medbay, easier to ignore the pain Anakin radiates like ripples through the Force. 

"If it can get knots and knots hurt, why do you keep it long?" she asks, after a moment, shifting the brush back to the top of Anakin's head and starting the motion again.

Anakin shrugs one shoulder. "I dunno, I like it long," he says, a quick, default response. Ahsoka keeps quiet, watching the brush move, knowing if she waits Anakin out, he'll tell her more of a truth. 

Anakin sighs, a deep breath that shifts his whole upper body. Ahsoka allows herself a little, brief smile. 

"I guess I just…I never really got to decide for myself what to do with it, until I became a knight," he tells her, voice quiet with his admission. "Growing it out seemed like the most rebellious thing I could do with it." He chuckles softly, his shoulders shaking a little with it. "It's grown on me now," he admits. "I've never had it long before, but I like it." He stops himself, though there's more, Ahsoka can tell, sitting on the flat of his tongue. His head tilts forward, gaze on his hands folded together in his lap. "Besides," he adds, falsely humorous, "I'm pretty sure it drives Obi-Wan crazy," and Ahsoka knows this isn't what he was really thinking. 

Ahsoka hums, watching the brush still as she continues to pull it gently through his hair. "I dunno," she says, tilting her head. She thinks about all the things she's seen, the things she's noticed, all the things she can feel from the both of them, caught up in between. "I think it drives him crazy in a different way." 

"Snips!" Anakin exclaims with a laugh, half turning around and leaving Ahsoka's arm hovering in the air. She looks at him and shrugs. 

"What! I have _eyes_ , you know." 

Anakin's head falls forward into his hands, his hair hanging around his face. "Ugh, _Snips_ ," he groans, muffled in his hands. Ahsoka can't help her little smile. 

"I'm not taking it back," she tells him, leaning to toss the brush away from the bed. "Especially not when I know it's true." 

"Oh, now you're asking for it," Anakin says, unfolding from his hunched pose to lunge for Ahsoka, catching her easily. She squeaks, laughing through her feeble protest, and lets herself be wrapped in Anakin's arms and pulled towards him. 

His grasp settles into an embrace, one arm wrapped around her back as she pushes into his side, her head resting on his arm just below his shoulder. He turns immediately towards her, tilting his head until his forehead rests in the space between her montrails. 

"Oh, stars," Anakin sighs, his body relaxing back into the pillows. "Well, I guess you know about that, now." 

Ahsoka tucks herself further into Anakin. "We all knew that was going to happen," she says, "you're horrible at keeping secrets." 

She feels Anakin's laughter in his chest, in the air that puffs from his nose onto her skin. "Yeah, yeah," he agrees, and he sighs again, this time heavier, echoing in their bond. "Just don't—don't tell anyone."

Ahsoka pushes herself away from Anakin to meet his gaze. "I wouldn't," she tells him, honesty thick in her voice and the Force. "I wouldn't." 

Anakin's hand comes up to the back of her head, curling around the curve of it, and he uses the grip to tug her back into his side. His cheek lands on top of her head, his hair tickling slightly where it just barely brushes her skin.

"I know," he says, softly. Then, "I'm worried about him."

"Yeah," Ahsoka sighs quietly. She rests her weight more heavily against Anakin, sinking into the comfort of him, both physically and in the Force. "Me too." Anakin's arm tightens around her. "But he'll be okay," she adds. "He has us." 

She can't see Anakin's smile, but she can feel it through the bond, faint, but there. "Yeah," he agrees, "he has us." 


End file.
